Adjustments
by Patricia Sage
Summary: Having a teenager in your life is quite a difference to living alone with your inventions and occasionally saving the world with your superhero team of crazies and hot-heads. Now, Tony had to worry about Blaine as well as himself, and he had to make time for the boy in his everyday life. Really, it was exhausting.


**Adjustments**

**Author's Note: Why, hello there. Look who's writing! Kind of. I found this incomplete story in a dusty old file in the corner of the cellar and decided to finish it. So, here we are! And another Gleevengers, woah. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from **_**Glee**_** or any Marvel works.**

Tony Stark sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the echoes of the closing door faded into silence. He pushed away the plate of takeout Thai food in front of him and glared at the abandoned one across the table.

Computers he could understand. Technology made sense; it was manipulatable, performed according to logic and reason.

Teenagers, however, did not.

It was true that Blaine was still adjusting to his new life, since his mother had died unexpectedly a couple months before, leaving him in the custody of his estranged father. Blaine was coping as well as could be expected with the innovative housing, media coverage, and new schedule. He was actually quite charming when it came to the press and he had his father's smile and sense of humor. But, he didn't have Tony's experience and he sometimes got a little overwhelmed. This was one of those days, apparently.

However, one should remember that Tony wasn't quite used to this either. Having a teenager in your life is quite a difference to living alone with your inventions and occasionally saving the world with your superhero team of crazies and hot-heads. Now, Tony had to worry about Blaine as well as himself, and he had to make time for the boy in his everyday life. Really, it was exhausting. And what thanks did he get for it? Thai food abandoned on the table and a door slammed in his face.

Tony couldn't pinpoint exactly what had sparked this tantrum from his teenage son. One of Stark Industry's corporate investors had been hosting a celebratory gathering that evening, so most of the day was spent preparing for the first time that these people would officially meet Tony Stark's long-lost son, Blaine Anderson. Tony tried to give the boy as much advice as possible, including how to properly respond to people's nosy comments and assumptions, as well as how to maintain his newfound angel-face image. Blaine seemed to take the pointers and criticisms well, and he won over the crowd as easily as he would an audience at one of his glee club things.

But, after they had arrived home once more, Blaine seemed more reserved; contemplative, stressed. Then, he had exploded over dinner, startling Tony.

The man had just finished complementing him, for goodness' sake. "You know, good job out there," Tony had said, scooping a mouthful of noodles into his mouth, "You performed well. Just like I taught you."

Blaine had slammed his fork down onto the table and the sound had reverberated through the spacious room, followed by the boy's voice. "I'm not one of your inventions, Dad! I'm going to _perform_ how _I_ want to, not how you program me too!" And then he had stormed out, slamming the door.

And, now, Tony steeled himself for a heart-to-heart. He slid the door open and stepped out onto the balcony where his son was leaning against the railing and staring out at the lights of the city. The teenager turned his head a little at the sound of the door closing, but he didn't face his father. Tony walked up to stand beside him, looking out at the skyline, bright under the ebony sky. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or are you planning on wallowing in teenage angst for a bit?" he inquired calmly.

Blaine sighed.

"I'll take that as a yes to the teenage angst."

The sixteen-year-old leaned his arms over the railing, pinching the bridge of his nose. A cool breeze ruffled the curls on his head. "Just…stop," he muttered.

Tony frowned. "Stop what?" he asked, moving to stand beside his son. Blaine didn't shy away like Tony thought he would, but he did turn his face to the other side. The older man, not able to see his expression, contented himself with reading the boy's body language. He was defensive, thoughtful, highly strung.

"Stop…acting like you always do."

At that, Tony scoffed. He had heard that line from Steve many times. "Who else am I supposed to act like, buddy?" he asked wryly, then spoke up in a high voice, "_I can only be me and being me is wonderful_!" His voice returned to the normal, sarcastic pitch, "Isn't that what you young hipsters are saying nowadays?"

Blaine turned to him with an exasperated expression. "I'm not a hipster," he muttered, "And, don't call me buddy."

"Why not? You're my son; I can call you mindless nicknames in the pretense of fondness."

"No, actually, you can't," the teenager snapped, causing his father to raise his eyebrows.

"And, why not?"

Finally, Blaine turned to fully face him. His expression was twisted into something haunted and bitter. "Because, nicknames like that are for people who you actually _know_, who you actually care about. Mom called me buddy and sweetheart. You don't get to do that."

"Well, I'm not really a _sweetheart_ kind of guy, anyway."

Blaine threw his hands in the air. "There you go again!"

"What?"

"I'm trying to talk about serious things an all you do is _joke around_!"

"You're avoiding the subject, anyway."

"Well, you're not listening! Mom used to listen when I talked to her!"

"Yeah, well, your mom's dead."

There was a twisted silence, then, broken only by Blaine swallowing and abruptly turning away. Tony, watching his son's tense posture, sighed a little. "Listen, Blaine," he said softly, reaching out to place a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Blaine shrugged him off. "Don't touch me."

"Son…" Tony began, "Listen." Blaine looked like he wanted to leave the balcony, but he knew that he had nowhere else to go. And that realization was what really made Tony drop the sarcasm.

Blaine had nowhere else to go. Tony was the only thing the kid had left.

"I'm sorry."

Blaine's hazel eyes flashed up to meet his father's identical ones. "Really?"

"Yeah, kid. Really." Tony moved to stand on the other side of the teenager. He leaned against the railing once more and stared out at his city. Blaine attentively watched him as he spoke. "You know, I cared about your mother, I really did. But, then you came into the world and she decided that you were better off without a father like me…and she was right."

"Dad—"

Tony held up a hand. "My time to talk, Blaine, use your manners." The boy fell silent and continued to listen. "But, as I so harshly reminded you, your mom's not here anymore. Although, I doubt that fact is ever far from your mind in the first place. So, I'm going to do my best to fill in the position of parent, even though it's not my favorite role…

"But, I'm nothing if not adaptable, Blaine," he reminded, "I woke up in a cave in the Middle East with a Lite-Brite in my chest and now I'm saving the world from alien invaders with a group of so-called superheroes who annoy the shit outta me." Blaine quirked a thick eyebrow. "So, I'll do my best to be a father to you as well, even though it's kind of unexpected." He winked. "But, I live for 'unexpected'."

Blaine gave a reluctant little half-smile when Tony punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dad," he said.

"But, listen, kid," Tony fixed his son with a steady gaze. "We have to cooperate in order to make this whole thing work; we have to communicate… There's something bothering you, and I want you to tell me what it is."

Blaine nodded. He looked down at his hands. "Okay. Um…" A hesitation, but he clearly saw that he wasn't getting out of the conversation. He burst out, "Dad…I'm not going to be the son you want."

"I don't really want a son in the first place, so…" Pleading hazel eyes looked through him, so Tony shut up.

"I…I'll try my best to, um, please people. Like, the public eye and your reputation; I'm not going to shame you or anything. But…there is one thing about me that's going to get out and I'm sorry for what it will cause you to, um, to have to deal with…"

"Just spit it out, Blaine."

Blaine looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and said, "Dad…I'm gay."

Tony's expression didn't change at all. "Really?" he said wryly.

"I—"

"_That's_ what you're so worked up about?"

"Well, yes…what—"

The man lifted up a hand. "Kid, did you think I was surprised when you showed up on my doorstep?"

Blaine was completely perplexed. "Um…I really don't know."

"Do you think that someone just threw you at me without warning?"

"Kind of."

Tony nodded and shrugged. "Well, in a sense, yes. But I knew you were coming, Blaine. I knew that you were going to be a big change in my life, my image, my spare time, my patience level… Honestly, if you had shown up without warning, I probably would have either kicked you out or built a robot to take care of you. But, I had time to think it over, and I realized that I wanted to be more than your biological father; I want to be your Dad. And, it's going to be tough, kid," he said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, "But I think we'll be okay.

"And," he continued, "About the gay thing; I already knew about that."

"Really?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think I let you in my house without performing a background check?"

"Well, of course…but I didn't think that my sexuality was common, accessible knowledge… It was in the file?"

"Oh, it wasn't. Not specifically. But I pieced it together. The medical records from that dance a couple years ago, that kind of thing. JARVIS is very thorough and effective."

"Right..." Blaine looked down at the lights of the city below them. "So...you're okay with it?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't give a damn, to be honest. If you're happy then I'm happy. That's that." He scoffed and unfolded his arms. "Now stop looking at me all teary-eyed and give me a hug or something. Gotta break the tension."

Blaine flung himself forward and into his dad's arms, pressing his face into the fabric of his T-shirt. It smelled familiar and distinct, like gasoline and new car. "Thanks, Dad," the teenager whispered.

Tony smiled and pressed his cheek into his son's curly hair. "We'll be okay," he said, reminding himself as well as his son.

Even though Tony would rather work with machines and technology than with people, especially teenagers, he figured he could make an exception for this one. Because this one was his, and Blaine didn't need any fixing. He was perfect the way he was.

**Author's Second Note: If anyone's read my other Gleevengers AU, this one is in that timeline but set prior to that one. So it's before Kurt. So...yes. Any thoughts? Let me know. **

**Take care.**

**-Patricia Sage**


End file.
